


Fever

by Lexifer



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2014), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Comfort, Drabble, Fever, Fluff, Gen, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 11:09:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3567440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexifer/pseuds/Lexifer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2k14 Apritello, sick Donnie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fever

"They left you here alone, like this?" April asked in disbelief, one hand planted firmly on her hip.

Donatello was in his strange concave bed, his lanky arms and legs sprawled out and dangling over the edges. "It's fine," he rasped. "I couldn't go with them like this and they'll be home by dawn."

April shook her head. She had no doubt in her mind that when one of the others was sick, Donatello took care of them. In fact, he probably hadn't been doted on at all since he was a child.

"I'll stay with you a little while," she said, inching closer to the bed to check on his condition. "What can I get you?"

"You actually _are_ the best-suited caregiver to us when we fall ill," he mused, looking up at the ceiling blankly. "The rare time a virus or bacteria finds our unique physiology an ideal host for infection, we are highly contagious to one another, but the chances of it being zoonotic to humans is," he paused, trying to do the calculations in his head. The wave of dizziness he was overcome with defeated him, and he digressed to himself. "Er, it's extremely low."

She reached out and gave his hand a squeeze to ground him and it was startlingly hot. She noticed the glassy-eyed smile he tipped her way, the few beads of sweat on his brow and the flushed hue of his face. Even more telling was his casual reaction to her touch, his complete lack of shyness to her seeing him without his mask or gear. "You have a fever, don't you?"

"Also known as pyrexia, hyperthermia…"

"Donnie," she said, cutting him off. "What is your normal temperature even supposed to be? Is there a thermometer around here somewhere? Did you take anything for it?"

"Most fevers resolve themselves without treatment."

April rolled her eyes. "I'll take that as a no."

"Just a matter of rest and fluids," he informed her, simultaneously reminding himself that the large plastic water bottle resting by his side needed to be refilled. He groped around for it blindly, finally finding it within the folds of his twisted blanket.

"What are you…?" April asked in alarm as hundreds of pounds of drowsy mutant rose from the bed, towered over her and swayed unsteadily. "No, no, no…"

He must have seen the way her life flashed before her eyes because he let April shift him back and sat on the bed. She took his water bottle and refilled it in the kitchen, wet a cloth and searched through her purse for Ibuprofen. By the time she returned he was hacking up a storm, his chest heaving and the bed looking like it was going to collapse beneath him.

April pulled up a chair next to him and and rubbed the rough scales of his forearm as he rode out the coughing jag. He groaned miserably when it was finally over and accepted the water April offered him gratefully. He managed to wash away the scratchy, painful feeling for the whole few seconds it took to swallow.

"Now these," April ordered, dropping some pills into his hands.

"April, it's really not necessary," he countered hoarsely.

"I am not going to let you suffer needlessly under my watch."

"But there is no definitive…."

" _Now_ ," she said firmly, fixing him with a stubborn glare.

Donatello sighed and knocked them back without further resistance. Too tired and delirious to put any more effort into fending her off, he sunk back into a prone position once again, pulling his blanket up and over him. His eyes opened in surprise when he felt the delicious chill of a wet cloth on his forehead. April had a hand on his shoulder and every now and then her fingers would trace circles absently against his skin. His eyelids heavy, he allowed himself to be lulled into a restful sleep under the watchful eye of his hogosha.


End file.
